


4 times Dorian was surprised by John and one time he wasn't

by jjjat3am



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Eustace - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:33:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/jjjat3am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title is pretty self-explanatory, I think.</p><p>Some tales of books, touches and punches, as written by a delightful robot completely enamoured with a grumpy detective.</p><p>Also, there is cats. Lots of cats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4 times Dorian was surprised by John and one time he wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly inspired by [this](http://jjjat3am.tumblr.com/post/71190729893/3-times-john-was-surprised-by-dorian-and-one-time-he) because that's when I started writing this one as well.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

_1.       Cats actually really like him_

 

They were working an unusual case, the murder victim stabbed to death with a pair of scissors and apparently involved in the highly competitive world of cat shows. John's face had been set into a grimace since the moment they'd been called to the crime scene, helped along by Dorian’s taunts and the bitterness of the allergy medication he had to take every hour to keep from sneezing.

 

The only lead they had, led them the house of Nigella von Purrswick, a cat breeder that worked closely with their victim, Dorian watching the dawning horror on John's face as the first loud meow sounded from beyond the door.

 

The inside of the house had Dorian barely reining in his laughter, because there were cats of every shape and size stationed everywhere; playing, running and play-fighting.

 

Then something curious happened.

 

Within 30 seconds of John seating himself on the couch, unable to refuse the tea that the kindly Mrs. Von Purrswick insisted she fetch them, the activity of the cats stopped completely. They started slowly congregating around the horrified detective, sitting on the floor or on the tables, watching him.

 

A loud thump sounded from the adjacent dining room and the doorway was suddenly filled with the largest cat Dorian had ever seen. The tabby was fat enough that his width was almost bigger than his length. The cats moved to make way for the massive patriarch and those who didn't move fast enough were removed with a swipe of his massive paw. The animal stopped at the foot of the couch, regarding the detective appraisingly.

 

"No! No way in hell!" John tried to defend himself, deducing the cat's intentions. It made a surprisingly graceful leap for an animal of its size and landed smack dab in John's lap. Dorian suspected that the tears he could see gathering in the detective eyes had less to do with his allergies and more with the cat's girth landing very near something sensitive. Of course, by then, it was taking every ounce of self-control to hold back his peals of laughter, so he couldn't be sure.

 

The cats all started meowing and purring in unison, resuming play around the detective's legs, the tabby's purr almost enough to drown them all out. Dorian just petted the Siamese butting against his calf and enjoyed the spectacle of John's face turning various shades of puce.

 

"Oh my! I see you've met Eustace! My, he sure has taken a liking to you, he usually doesn't like strangers!" Mrs. Von Purrswick exclaimed, as she reentered the room with a tray.  John's only answer was a helpless groan. Dorian took over questioning from then on.

 

Mrs. Von Purrswick had been very helpful indeed and they learnt of a man that might have the necessary motive for the crime However, Eustace showed no signs of wanting to part with the detective. In fact, he dug in his claws even deeper into John's (thankfully) prosthetic leg. Eventually, his tuna can was distraction enough for them to get out of the house, slamming the door behind them.

 

The sight of the detective with cat hair all over his black slacks and tears in his eyes was too much for Dorian. He was laughing so hard he had to brace himself against the side of the car.

 

"Yeah, laugh it up, laugh it up. You won't be laughing when I make you clean up the cat hair." John's frown then turned rapidly to horror and Dorian followed his gaze to the living room window, where Eustace’s head was mashed up against the glass, letting out the most mournful yowls imaginable. John was inside the car in a flash.

 

"Why, John! It seems like someone's fallen in love!" Dorian collapsed next to him, laughing hysterically. They peeled out of the parking lot so fast; you'd think the hounds of hell were chasing them.

 

Or in this case, cats.

 

_2.       He likes to read_

 

The first time Dorian got to spend a significant amount of time at John's apartment is when the detective was nursing a set of bruises from a run-in with a suspect, and didn't feel up to eating in public.

 

John gave in to his pleading looks pretty quickly and Dorian found himself juggling several containers of takeout, while John tried to find his keys.

 

Abandoned in the living room for John's utensil search, he decided to take the uttered "make yourself at home" to heart and proceeded to snoop around like a true detective.

 

The living room was dominated by a large bookcase filled with old style books. Dorian touched the spine of one, cautiously, afraid the ornate lettering might rub off. The leather was soft and Dorian pulled down the book instinctively, admiring the cover.

 

A cough shook him from his stupor. John had already settled comfortably on the couch, takeout container in hand and was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

"Oh, I...you have a lot of books." Dorian bent to look at the other titles. "They must have been hard to find." John shrugged.

 

"Some were my mothers. Most I found over the years, in yard sales or old shops."

 

"Why a book, though? Why not just read from a pad?" John laid the takeout on the coffee table and crossed the room to stand next to Dorian. He pulled another book from the shelf, opening it up and thrusting it under his smell sensors.

 

"Can you smell that?" It was a strange smell, soft and comforting, and under it, Dorian could smell the whiff of a lady's perfume, smoke and, curiously, a hint of chocolate. He nodded. John turned a few pages.

 

"See that?" pointing to an imprint of a finger on the edge of the page. "Or that?" to a smudge of chocolate. "That?" a letter where a tear had smeared the ink.

 

"You don't get that with pads." John snapped the book shut, putting it back on the shelf.

 

"Which one is your favorite?" John took another book from the bookcase; this one battered and obviously much used, and exchanged it for the one Dorian was holding. He looked at the title and smirked at Dorian.

 

“Really Dorian? Pride and Prejudice?”

 

But Dorian was already nose deep in the book in front of him, wandering over to sprawl on the couch. After a moment, John joined him there with his own, food forgotten.

 

An indecipherable time later, Dorian looked away from the miraculous adventures of the hobbit Bilbo Baggins and his dwarven companions to watch his partner and grinned, feeling surprisingly warm.

 

John was making his way through the book, utterly absorbed, knee propped up on some pillows. His expression was open and Dorian watched the emotions cycle through his features as the events in the book progressed. The detective had a surprisingly expressive face when it wasn’t warped with a frown.

 

John, probably sensing his gaze, looked up and their eyes meet. Dorian got a moment of insight into his partner, before his expression shuttered and he looked away.

 

Later on, when he had some free time, Dorian downloaded The Hobbit to his pad and read it to the end. He looked around at all the MXs in their biopods and thought longingly of John’s warm apartment.

 

It really wasn’t the same if you didn’t have a book to read it from.

 

_3.       He’s willing to defend his honor_

 

Detective Richard Paul had made his thoughts about androids very clear.

 

Dorian sometimes pitied the MX who gets stuck with him, seeing him treated worse than dirt and abused besides. He’d been on the receiving end of the detective’s ire before, but there was nothing much he could say that Dorian hadn’t heard before at least a hundred times. He was used to it. He thought John was too.

 

Apparently not.

 

Dorian had just entered the men’s locker room to collect his missing partner. Hearing Paul talk, he moved into a little alcove behind the lockers, hoping to avoid confrontation.

 

“Where’s your little robot boyfriend, Kennex?” There was a sliver of space between the lockers, allowing Dorian to monitor the situation. John was pulling on his tank top, fresh from the showers and Paul was leaning against his own locker on the far side, sneering. “Wasn’t he in the shower with you? I thought you took him everywhere.” When John didn’t reply, he continued.

 

“He and the sexbots are practically cousins; I bet he knows a thing or two about the trade. Sampled the goods yet?” Dorian winced in his hiding place, watching John’s shoulders tighten with every word. “Or is the robot too busy crying over his feelings?”

 

It happened in a flash. One moment Paul was leaning casually against the locker, the next he was on the floor trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose, cursing loudly.

 

“You fucking listen to me, you piece of shit! Dorian is twice the man and twice the detective you will ever be and if I hear you talk about him like that ever again, I swear…”

 

 Dorian stepped out of his hiding place when it seemed like John might punch the other man again.

 

John looked at him, flushed bright red and fuming, but choked on his words when he saw the look on Dorian’s face. He grabbed his jacket and gun, snagging Dorian by the elbow and leading him out of the room, Paul’s curses already attracting attention.

 

Later, when they were on stakeout together, John angrily sipping on his coffee (perfect temperature, Dorian made sure), fuming from his conversation with Captain Maldonado, Dorian decided to speak up.

 

“Thanks for defending me today. You didn’t have to; he says shit like that all the time.”

 

“He called you a sexbot before?” John was frowning again and Dorian recalculated that the other squad car with Paul inside wasn’t nearly far enough to stop John, if he decided he wanted to punch him again.

 

“He calls my skills into question all the time. So do you, actually.”

 

“Yeah, but I don’t mean it.” John turned to him and he looked so earnest that Dorian had to smile. “You know that, right?”

 

“Yeah.” Dorian whispered, fully aware that if he were capable of it, he’d be blushing. “Thanks, John.”

 

_4.       He likes to be touched_

 

Dorian had access to John’s file the moment the other man woke him up from decommission. The psychological profile was clear, if very extensive, as were the explicit instructions on how to act if any of the conditions described in the dossier were to worsen. Dorian, being Dorian, ignored them all.

 

The first time he clapped his hand on John’s shoulder, the other man froze and Dorian removed it as quickly as possible, trying to make it look like he didn’t notice anything at all. However, when he did a status reading right after John turned away there were no signs of anger, unless you counted the elevated heartbeat.

 

So Dorian tried again, because the ability to replace parts of your body when they get damaged tends to have a negative effect on one’s self-preservation instincts.

 

He deliberately brushed his fingers against John’s when handing him pads and walked close enough for their shoulders to brush. The strangest thing was that John would accept the contact, even lean into it, in that brief moment before he realized that it was Dorian that was behind it, and then he would close off.

 

Dorian would have been offended, if the detective hadn’t treated the Chef’s encouraging pats and detective Stahl’s casual touches the exact same way. If he didn’t like being touched, then why didn’t he mention it or move away? The detective never seemed to have problems being vocal about other things.

 

It wasn’t until months later that the answer hit him. Unfortunately, it did so when they were both naked, tangled in John’s bed sheets and trying desperately to touch as much of each other as possible, so there wasn’t that much time to dwell on the discovery.

 

John was panting below him, flushed to an attractive shade of red, as Dorian took his sweet time exploring his body, marking it with possessive kisses. They’d been at it for barely a few minutes and already John looked close to falling apart, pressing closer to his mouth, desperately seeking the slide of Dorian’s skin.

 

Everything about him was so very responsive and it occurred to Dorian that it must have been a long time since John had been touched this way, so he redoubled his efforts until the other man was quivering beneath him.

 

Dorian stopped the touches, ignoring John’s desperate groan, and levered himself up on all fours to hover over John’s debauched body and thoroughly kiss him.

 

“What do you need?” He whispered against John’s collarbone, marking it with sharp little nips and licks.

 

“Touch me…” and Dorian did.

 

Later on, when they were completely tangled in each other, John pressed as close as humanly possible and dozing lightly, Dorian remembered his epiphany.

 

“So it’s not that you don’t like to be touched…you like it too much?” John muttered something unintelligible against his collarbone.

 

Dorian ran his fingers through John’s hair and watched the detective lean into it like a cat, breath evening out in his sleep, and pressed a fond kiss against his temple.

 

He could wait to test his theory tomorrow. They had time.

 

 

_+1_

 

 

The bullet tears into John’s shoulder and for a moment all Dorian sees is red.

 

When his eyesight clears, he’s standing in a pool of blood, the dead and dying surrounding him, trying to keep John from bleeding out.

 

There are consequences, of course. A robot can’t go around killing people just because his partner may be hurt. The higher ups are worried that he might be compromised and demand he take the Luger test again.

 

Dorian doesn’t attempt to do, or say anything to defend himself. He knows what his score will be, knows he’s compromised. Probably has been since that evening in Chinatown, handles of the defibrillator smooth in his hands and John’s broken body gasping beneath his fingertips.

 

John fights for him. Testifying for his character, arguing with his superiors in a way that might compromise his future career and waving his injured arm around so animatedly that Dorian fears for his stitches.

 

It’s no use, of course.

 

He’s been kept away from John for the duration of the proceedings, both of them off active duty, and he’s feeling the separation like a festering wound.

 

They catch a few minutes of alone time right before Dorian is supposed to undergo the test. It’s obvious that if he fails it, he’ll never wake again. It’s obvious that he will fail it, because the warmth he feels when he sees John is unmistakable.

 

“How’s your arm?” John tears his eyes from Dorian enough to follow his gaze to his arm, still strapped in a brace. He shakes his head and suddenly moves closer to Dorian, speaking in a strained whisper.

 

“Look, no matter what happens, I’m going to be right there when you wake up, okay?” And Dorian burns at the utter conviction in his eyes, wants to touch him so badly, run a hand over his stubbled jaw and pull their lips together, but he can’t, they’re watching their every move, waiting for a slip.

 

“What if I don’t wake up?” Dorian whispers back, uncomfortably aware of the way his voice shakes.

 

“You will. I promise.”

 

Dorian believes him. They clasp their hands together briefly, before Dorian is ushered into the other room, away from John. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t have to.

 

 

*

 

 

The last time he was put to ‘sleep’, he awoke suddenly, an after effect of the fear that shook him right before the cold wires touched the back of his neck.

 

Not this time.

 

This time, he opens his eyes slowly, like a man after a long dreamless sleep, disoriented, but relaxed.

 

John is smiling down at him, activation rod in hand.

 

Dorian finds a moment to wonder at his total lack of surprise over that fact, before all process flees his data channels when John seals their lips together.

 

He put his faith in John’s hands and his partner came through.

 

Dorian knew he would.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just say that Eustace the cat is my favorite thing that I've ever written and that I hope that you find the image of him lounging in John's lap at least half as amusing as Dorian did.
> 
> I can be found on [my tumblr.](http://jjjat3am.tumblr.com/) Come say hi!
> 
> As ever, I hope you liked it!


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